


Picture Imperfect

by GlitterAndDoom



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Abortion, Angst, Community: hc_bingo, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-11
Updated: 2011-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterAndDoom/pseuds/GlitterAndDoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He's always wanted children, but never like this.</i>
</p><p>Warnings for mpreg and abortion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picture Imperfect

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: Mpreg, abortion, angst
> 
> Written for the glam_kink prompt: _I would really like a fic on the rarely explored side of mpreg. I'm not picky on why they don't have the child, be it a abortion, a spontaneous abortion or an accident, I don't care as long as they loose the baby._
> 
> _The only thing I do want is for Tommy to be the pregnant one, doesn't have to explain how he can become pregnant as I want the focus to be on the miscarriage/abortion/accident and the aftermath of it._
> 
> Also fits the hc_bingo square "unexpected pregnancy."

He's always wanted children, but never like this.

"This is so fucked up," he tells Adam, slamming the test in the trash. "So fucked up."

He feels like ass these days, his stomach a twisted roil of nausea every single second of every single day, his body so heavy with fatigue he can hardly move. Tired—so goddamn tired, and now he knows why, and it's worst fucking nightmare come true, it's like he's dying except he's not, more like his soul is dying. And Adam kisses him like nothing's wrong, holds him close like nothing's wrong, rubs his belly like nothing's fucking wrong, and everything is wrong. Everything.

He's never believed that sanctity-of-body bullshit, but this is a violation. He knows how someone can stand to call a child a parasite now. He knows how it feels to want nothing more than to be rid of it.

But still, he blames his hormones for the black-stained tears he cries when he says, "I can't do this. I can't…I don't want this."

He expects Adam to look stricken, to look like someone kicked him in the guts, to do…god, _something_ besides be good, always so fucking good. "Okay," Adam says, and kisses his hair. "I'll go make some calls. See what I can do."

Tommy throws his pillow at the door when it closes behind him, and flings himself down on the bed like a petulant child, wishing that just once Adam could be a bastard, even though he doesn't think Adam could do that if he tried.

The clinic isn't as harsh and as sterile as he'd like when it confirms what he already knows, but the hospital is, thank fuck. He'd been looking for something else to hate, somewhere else to channel his rage. If only he'd been born a woman, it could have been simple, they tell him, and he hates that, and he loves it. Another excuse to rage at circumstance, to scream at someone who isn't Adam, to scream at someone who isn't _him_.

It hits him that he's never screamed at the… _thing._ "I can't call it a 'baby,'" he says to Adam, who hasn't let go of his hand since they got there. "Why can't I call it a baby?"

Adam shushes him, then lifts his hand to his lips for a kiss. "It's not a baby for you. Not really."

Then, Adam looks away, and the glimmer of something tragic in Adam's eyes makes Tommy blurt out, "Is it for you?"

Adam bites his lip and swallows hard, then looks at him with a sad smile on his face. "Let's deal with you, okay? This is your decision, not mine."

He's never asked Adam what _he_ wanted, but now he thinks he knows. "You always want happily-ever-after. Always think everything's gonna be sunshine and fucking rainbows."

"If I wanted rainbows," Adam replies, squeezing his hand, and what Adam thinks shouldn't matter, but it does, "I wouldn't be with you."

They take him into surgery before he can do anymore damage to _them_ , and as the anesthesia hits, he thinks maybe, just maybe, they could be okay.

They're fucking rock stars, after all.

But nothing is ever perfect. He wakes up alone, dizzy and dazed, everything unfamiliar and dark. His body feels foreign, mind covered in an empty skin of lead, and Adam…Adam isn't there. Until he is.

"Went to get a drink," he explains, and sits down easily, like nothing's wrong. Even through the blur, Tommy can see the red in Adam's eyes. He wonders if he should apologize, but Adam smiles at him and says, "I love you. You're okay," and for the first or billionth time, his heart breaks within his chest.

He can't tell if he hates himself now or loves himself—or maybe both.

He goes home to soft pillows and open arms, and still knows fuck-all about how he feels. Maybe he'll never figure it out. But even as he wakes up crying, grieving for the happily-ever-after that couldn't be, he knows—this was what he had to do. This was the only right decision he could have made.

Right?

Sometimes, when he looks at Adam, he wonders.

Nothing is ever perfect.


End file.
